


just pick a hero and pray

by byuul



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Esteem Issues, link's not a champion but he's gotta save hyrule anyways, the sidlink is slow burn he doesn't show up yet, using the master sword for things it really shouldnt be used for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26537035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byuul/pseuds/byuul
Summary: Yeah, they're not really sure who has the soul of the hero, to be honest.A story where just about half of Hyrule claims their child is the reincarnated hero of legend. As Ganon threatens to surface, the king says screw it and appoints (insert soldier here) as Zelda's knight. At this point they may as well flip a coin. Naturally, this doesn't go so well.100 years later, a clueless Link regularly chases bokoblins off his dinky farm and uses some weird sword he found to chop carrots.
Relationships: Link/Prince Sidon
Comments: 14
Kudos: 129





	1. local farmer finds sword

**Author's Note:**

> alt. title was "king rhoam rlly knows how to pick em huh" i liked the idea of link just being some guy who found the master sword and immediately went "nice. i have no idea what this is. new gardening tool."
> 
> keep in mind i don't have a beta nor a set plan haha. i just wrote this for stress relief, please choose another fic if you're looking for something more ambitious.

The soul of the Hero reincarnates when he’s needed, always accompanying the princess and always possessing whatever skills necessary to defeat Ganon. His unparalleled selflessness, kindness, boldness, _courage,_ allows him to be found, and in turn, the Master Sword always finds its way to him as well. 

At least, that’s what King Rhoam believed until he was swamped with thousands of letters claiming them or their child to be the hero of legend. If he heard another plucky footsoldier knocking at the gates claiming to be the hero destined to be Princess Zelda’s knight, he may just rip out his beard. 

If the ancient tale was true, the real hero certainly wasn’t making himself easy to find at all. 

Each of the Royal Guard soldiers held titles and accomplishments of significance, each worthy of earning the role of his daughter’s appointed knight. A weathered marksman who had defeated an entire bokoblin base single-handedly, a young man who had encountered a lynel and lived to tell the tale, a father from Hateno who had saved the town from a lizalfos ambush. He and his advisors were dragging their feet on the decision. 

But the monsters of Hyrule have been growing restless as of late, and there wasn’t enough time to pick the needle out from the haystack. Calamity Ganon was coming whether the hero was ready or not. The same could be said for his daughter, who was stomping her way to her room after another failed trip to the Spring of Wisdom. 

With great reluctance, King Rhoam drew a weary sigh, “Bring me the guard that hails from Hateno.”

\---

About a hundred years later, Link thwacked another bokoblin on the head with a farming hoe, “Quit messing with my crops, go find your own junk!” Thunk thunk thunk. 

By the time he managed to chase them away, his poor radishes were effectively stomped to oblivion. Damn monsters always screwing with his plants. He’d find them later.

The Great Plateau was a distance away from other civilizations, devoid of people and abundant in monsters. Koroks constantly jingled in the trees, and the Guardians caused a ruckus nightly, shooting their beams at random birds that flew by. Naturally, Link immediately threw his pack into an abandoned shack and decided it was the perfect place to settle down. 

At first the acclimation was difficult; not due to a lack of socialization, but Link had always been more of a nomadic individual. Even now, unpacking was a bit of a daunting task. His diet consisted of whatever could be gathered nearby, and truth be told, he kind of sucked at farming. The radishes he managed to save were mature but… kind of pathetic.

He’d get it eventually. Hopefully.

Months later and his farming was still subpar, but he had a daily routine at the very least. Wake up, dunk himself into the closest pond, train, wrestle a boar, make breakfast from said boar, tend to the crops, terrorize the monsters on the plateau, dinner, sleep, repeat. Life was manageable.

(Although lately Link had some difficulty tracking any monsters down. Outside of the persistent few that scrambled onto his farm, most tended to run the other way at the sight of him— one group of bokoblins even propped a white flag on top of their base. He had no idea why.)

The bloodied farming hoe Link had been scrubbing clean broke in his hands. He set the pieces aside with a grumble of _’Again?’_ Over the past few months, he had been gradually scavenging his way through the plateau, collecting the knick knacks and tools he could get a hold of. Everywhere but the sealed cave near the Temple of Time had been picked clean. During the first week of his stay, Link struggled to pry the stubborn doors open to no avail. 

Although he’d rather try there than leave the Great Plateau. 

That was how Link found himself reassembling his pack, stealing a barrel bomb from a nearby bokoblin camp, and planting it right next to the doors of the cave. Unorthodox, but if this didn’t work he’d bang his head against the nearest boulder. 

He was in the middle of striking a piece of flint with his knife when a rumble bounced the dirt and gravel beneath him, only growing more intense as the seconds passed. Link immediately clutched the side of the cave and watched with wide eyes as the frustrating door he’d been prepared to blast to bits opened on its own. 

Eventually the rumbling stopped. He held his breath for just a bit longer, waiting for something or someone to run out of the doors and attack him. 

Nothing happened. After a few moments, Link hesitantly pushed himself away from the wall and peered inside. Aside from a few old boxes, some weird pedestal, and a darkened back room with only a strange blue light illuminating it, the cave seemed empty. 

He waited for whatever managed to open the impossible doors, but nobody came. 

His footsteps seemed to echo in the glowing halls, wandering and searching for what he needed so he could go home and say he finished exploring the plateau. Some old arrows were stashed away, a weird tablet that seemed more like a loud lamp, and—

“Oh, this works.” Technically it was a sword, a pretty one with a cobalt handle and a blade that seemed to shine in the dark, but Link was resourceful. He was sure he could use it for his weeds too. 

\---

A few weeks later, Link gained a companion. 

The wolf appeared without warning, planting himself right outside the shack every night and trailing behind him when Link ventured away from home every morning. It came and went as it pleased, checking on him for a few minutes a day or staying for an entire week. Unlike the other wolves he'd spotted in fields and mountains, this one didn't belong to any specific pack. 

This one didn't attack him either. 

At some point, Link started to toss him the leftover meat he caught. Sometime after that, he began cooking his meals alongside the wolf's. Eventually he couldn't help but coddle the large canine. 

After years of solitude, he'd grown inevitably attached. Link named him Twilight and could swear that his new friend understood what he was saying most of the time. The grumbled huffs and eyerolls he received whenever he used his new sword to cut carrots and open tightly shut cans proved it, "What do you want me to do? Open it with my teeth?" 

A boof. Yeah, that was what he expected.

\---

Link's second companion was slightly less welcome than his first. He was wary of the company for a good while. Tall and heavy with years of white, curly beard, the old man was constantly wandering around the plateau. He chopped wood, hunted boar, cooked spicy meat and seafood fry, and for the most part stayed out of Link's way. 

When they did interact though, the old man's expression seemed permanently exasperated.

"Is that the…?" He gestured towards Link's back. His sword.

"You mean my can opener?"

"..."

"What about it? Do you need to borrow it?" 

He said no, he doesn't think so, and continued on his way. Sometimes their conversations ended there. Other times, the old man would continue. 

"Why do the monsters in this area flee from you? Dare I say, that base we just passed even had a white flag flying overhead." 

"I dunno," Link shrugged, chewing half an apple and offering the other half to the old man. When he declined, the rest of the apple went to Twilight, "Even after they die, they come back when the moon is red anyways, whether that be the next day or next week."

The old man stared ahead at the forest, axe hefted higher onto his shoulder, "Do you enjoy fighting?" 

He mulled over the question in his head for a moment. Link could see bits of the malicious fog obscuring Hyrule Castle in his peripherals, "Wouldn't it be better to?" 

"I suppose so," The old man sighed, and it held a weight Link would toss a rupee in to understand, "Maybe this is one of my better consequences."

Link didn't really understand what he meant by that, but later that night he returned home to a dish of apple pie. It felt like an apology. 

On a day when the old man's bones seemed to weigh him down, he dared a question, "I try not to ask, but weeks have passed now and yet you still remain on this plateau. What is a young man like you doing so far from town?" He didn't need to specify a town in particular, there wasn't one for miles. 

The words caught in his throat before Link could make them out. He sent a dubious glance towards the old man who shook his head.

"If you don't wish to tell me then that's fine as well. Just know there is no one I will tell," He drags his mournful gaze across the field of busted guardians and cobble ruins, "No one I _could_ tell either." 

His fingers twitched, and before Link could help it he signed, _I wanted to be away from the village._ He gestured towards the castle. _Before the Calamity comes back. Enjoy myself a bit until then._

Maybe the old man's eyes glossed over just the slightest bit, maybe his shoulders sagged and a flicker of blue flitted at the corner of his sight. Link wouldn't judge.

"Have you no hope for the future? Nothing else you'd like to do before the end but keep an old man company in the wild?" No one else?

Link shrugged. 

A few moments passed. He fiddled with the string of his boots.

During that small span of time, it seemed like the old man had squared his shoulders and made up his mind, "A bit unconventional, but… No. There are much better things to do."

"Link, pull out that strange tablet you have, would you? I'd like to show you something."

\---

So the former king of Hyrule had seen him throwing bombs into the water to catch fish en masse, and tossing apples into the fire like a caveman upon learning they wouldn’t turn into a gross, gooey mess. 

Oh, Hylia, he saw Link use the literal _Master Sword_ as a knife to cut carrots. 

It was certainly a surprise. So were the dozen or so towers popping out of the ground like daisies, and the shrines, and— yeah, everything. 

As the King’s form began to fade in a wash of blue flame, Link blurted, “I'm not sure if I can do this. I don’t have the soul of the hero, Hylia didn’t choose _me._ ”

He wanted to go back to growing tiny radishes and chasing bokoblins off his poor excuse of a farm. Anything that stopped the frantic pressure of his own blood in his body. The Master Sword’s weight on his back no longer felt like a safety net. 

The last king of Hyrule watched as Link’s face paled at the shake of his head, “No, maybe she didn’t,” He hefted a hand that used to be so heavy onto the younger’s shoulder, now barely shifting a hair out of place, “I chose you.” 

“Your track record with that hasn’t been that great,” It slipped out of his lips before he could help himself. To his credit, the king just grimaced. 

“No, it hasn’t. But humor me with this leap of faith. Perhaps you will find something better to seek than solitude.” He can’t see the hand gripping his shoulder anymore. The old man is gone. 

“Save my daughter.”


	2. local farmer tries his best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again i don't have a beta or a plan! just a fic i enjoy tossing words into haha
> 
> thank you everyone who commented and left sweet kudos and bookmarks!

He got cold feet for the first few days. Yeah, the weight of responsibility and all but… 

Link didn’t know how to safely carry his wolf down from the plateau. The two glanced over the edge of the crumbled cliffs, a nervous sweat lining Link’s brow, “Maybe I can tie us together somehow?” 

Twilight bit his sleeve at the idea. Definitely a “no.”

“I’ll build you a parachute.” That got him a growl.

“We can try to dive into the nearby river!” 

Another growl.

“Then… then, uh,” He worried his lip. In the small span of time they’d had together, Link already felt anxious at the thought of leaving his companion behind. Out of habit, he rubbed along the canine’s snout and behind the ears, “We’ll figure something out. Dinner first.”

That night, Link cooked meat and mushroom skewers for him and his friend. 

Eventually they decided to put that teleportation tool to the test, Link promising to return to the plateau shrines once he’d found one closer to the ground. At the sight of the Bosh Kala shrine he cheered, eager to see his friend once again. 

Link held the wolf tight, clicked the travel button on the slate and let their vision fill with bright blue embers. At the foot of the shrine he carefully cracked an eye open, arms held close to his own chest. 

Twilight wasn’t there. 

He travelled back immediately. Held on even tighter. No wolf in sight. 

Again and again for the next few days they kept trying, but they’d hit a wall apparently. 

Staring into the fire, he let the gentle crackle and pops of dancing twigs soothe his frustrations. There was more than one way down this plateau, he was sure of it. Maybe he could get the other to press the right buttons with his paws? Ah, no, but that required opposable thumbs. Link cleared his throat, but it felt more like swallowing a rock, “We’ll find another way,” His lips pressed into a thin line, “I’m not leaving you behind.” 

The next day, the last of his weapons broke. All that was left was the Master Sword strapped onto his back. He didn’t catch the wolf’s stare, nor how it glanced towards the countless inactive towers scattered across lands untouched. 

They tried again, teleporting towards Bosh Kala shrine. As always, the outcome was the same. Link buried a hand in his hair, slowly dragging it down his face with a sigh before returning to the plateau. The trips were always the same: heavy vertigo and a pop in his ears. 

The destination was different this time, though. Because his friend wasn’t waiting for him at the foot of the shrine. _He’s hunting, right?_

Link whistled and waited for a response that would never come.

\---

Every once in a while, the patrons of Dueling Peaks stable side eyed Link cooking near the pot. He couldn’t blame them- Link had used enough ingredients to fill the entire thing. After a pitiful few weeks of company, he was already finding difficulties cooking for one instead of two or three.

He stirred spicy meat and seafood fry with a spoon that a nice stablehand let him borrow. Link added too many spicy peppers and felt moisture prick at the corner of his eyes. 

Out of nowhere a wooden bowl was shoved into his face, effectively distracting him from his thoughts, “Ah-?” 

At the questioning tone the bowl was only shoved closer by a small child who gripped it with stubborn, pudgy hands. His pouty face grunt a bit, nudging his head towards the pot.

“... Be careful, it’s really spicy,” Link murmured, scooping even portions of veggies and meat into the bowl. 

It seemed like he set off a chain reaction, as other weary travelers began sniffing near the pot and sheepishly offering their own empty bowls as well. He didn’t mind, there was more than enough to go around anyways. 

In exchange they offered their own dishes. A traveler from Lurelin boasting about his seafood paella and a Gerudo woman setting out her own creamy heart soup. An amused voice in Link’s head was reminded of those big potluck dinners his neighbors in Hateno would have with family and friends. He quickly shut that thought down.

While the stable guests and staff were enjoying their hodge-podge meals, Link finally had the opportunity to try the creamy heart soup. It was sweet, served cold and prepared with obvious care and attention. He turned to the Gerudo woman, “Thanks for the food, this tastes amazing. Where did you find the ingredients for this?” 

She shrugged, sipping at her own serving, “They aren’t usually found outside the desert. If I want to make more I will have to return or pray that a vendor has some on hand,” Taking a moment to consider, she shrugged and downed the rest of the bowl, “I was saving it for a special occasion.” 

He tilted his head, “Special occasion?” 

A laugh, “I left Gerudo Town in search of love. The town holds its traditions very close, you see. No men allowed within the borders of the settlement at all! If we choose to create a family, it must be outside the town’s walls. I saved this for the moment I found what I was looking for.” 

Link tilted his soup from side to side, letting the little bits of melon and voltfruit roll along the side of his bowl, “Then why use it here?” 

“Because I think this is a special occasion,” She sent him a glance and turned back towards the group of chattering people, faces flushed with spice and conversation. The child he gave the first serving of meat and seafood to was already half asleep against his brother, backs bracing each other near the horse pen. Their father was conflicted between throwing a blanket over the two or just throwing them into a bed. A wandering merchant- Beedle? He finally set his massive pack down and debated the safest trading routes with the Lurelin traveler. 

The sight caused him to worry the inside of his cheek. 

“It’s alright if you do not understand yet. Come back someday when you do. If the chances are in our favor, maybe we will meet again.” 

\---

Kakariko was homey, but the vibe in Kakariko Village was completely different than the one in Hateno. Link took his time finding this Impa woman, admiring the old traditional buildings and flora that thrived between the mountains. A man named Cado eagerly rambled to him about his cuccos for… much longer than he originally planned, and he spent the better part of an hour selling materials to the local shopkeeper. 

She eyed the Sheikah slate at his hip, “I appreciate you coming by this little shop and showing me all your exotic wares, but is there any reason in particular you’re stalling your visit with the chief?” 

Busted. He quirked his lips just a bit, “It’s just a replica?”

“Try again,” The shop owner scoffed and playfully swatted his shoulder. 

Link sighed, “It’s a bit… it’s iffy.” He didn’t need to elaborate any further. She shook her head.

“Then I’d suggest ripping off the bandage before making a beeline towards the inn. You’ve enough rupees to splurge.” 

She was right of course.

Impa was an imposing figure, taller than Link on her stacks of sitting pillows and hat adorned with hanging ornaments and the Sheikah talisman. Her eyes drooped with age but her gaze was no less sharp, locking onto the slate at his side and studying his face carefully. She scrutinized him for a moment longer before huffing, “You’re certainly not the princess’s Champion.”

He winced and shifted his hand to brush the slate with idle fingers, “I’d sure hope not.” 

“Given his fate, it’s likely for the better,” Another wince, “But I am curious, what is your name and how did you end up with such a thing?” 

Link carefully decided not to tell her he’d been planning to blow up an ancient cave for a farming tool, “My name’s Link, and it was hidden away on the Great Plateau. I noticed a cave was open and… yoink.” 

“ _Yoink,_ indeed.” Her expression was warring between amused and unimpressed. She shook her head, “Either way, I am grateful you’ve brought the Sheikah slate back to us. We’ll properly return it to its rightful place as soon as we are able.” 

Something about the statement felt off, “Rightful place?” 

The chief nodded, “It is an ancient and powerful tool that only those who have proven to be worthy can wield. The last to own it was Princess Zelda’s fallen champion. You’ve surely seen the photos inside the slate, haven’t you?” 

The king certainly hadn’t said anything about the Sheikah slate taking photos, “I don’t think- It can take photos?” 

A weathered hand beckoned him closer, “Let me see, young man.” 

He hesitantly brought it closer, allowing her to fwip through pages and buttons with a grunt, “The damage from that last attack must have caused it to malfunction. It may need to go to Hateno for repairs.” 

She didn’t hand it back. 

“I think I may need that,” Link awkwardly interjected. After a few moments, Impa adjusted herself on her perch and exhaled slowly. Not for the first time, Link felt inadequate in his own skin. 

Dirt-scrubbed, kinda smelly, covered in grime and grass stains. His body still held a softness to it that Impa’s guards hadn’t. It was littered with scars, but not the kind that he’d longingly spotted on the experienced travelers at the stable. His were from scraped knees, falls from trees, thorns, maybe the occasional bokoblin bite. The best clothes he had were the old man’s warm doublet and his single pair of untorn pants. 

Speaking of whom, Link still wondered just what in Hylia’s name the king was thinking, giving him a task like this. Maybe it was a form of ghost dementia or something. 

“Tell me some things about yourself for a moment, Link. Who am I talking to right now?” She waited patiently as Link struggled to piece together an appropriate response. 

“I travelled from Hateno Village to be a farmer on the Great Plateau for a while,” He shifted his leg a bit. 

“So far from home?” 

“That’s not my home.” 

Impa wisely let the topic drop. Instead she asked, “What purpose do you have for the Sheikah slate? A wandering farmer in isolation, do you believe something this important should be trusted in his hands?” 

_Oh, absolutely not._ Truth be told, he wanted to toss the thing over to Impa and call the whole world-saving plot a bust. 

But then pesky images of an old man’s mournful gaze persistently sat behind his eyelids at night. Link imagined the princess, still trapped in a hundred year struggle with Ganon. Every time he wandered about Hyrule, all he needed to do is turn his head and the fog of rot obscuring the castle served as a reminder that someone still needed to try. 

_”Perhaps you will find something better to seek than solitude.”_

Inadequate, grimy, soft around the edges; but despite everything, Link still wanted to try. 

That was new for him. 

Impa regarded him carefully, “Your conviction is admirable, but I cannot just allow blind determination to sway decisions such as these. You are welcome in Kakariko Village when necessary, Link, but for now I believe it is best to allow the Sheikah slate to go back to its original resting place.”

Fair enough. Worry gripped at him anyways, his hands moving to express what his voice was too tired to, _”Maybe I’m not chosen, or worthy. The only hero we had died ages ago. But do you have a plan? Who will defeat Ganon if we have to wait for the soul of the hero to reincarnate again?”_

“The goddesses and deities make no mistakes.” It felt like Impa aged another five years in the past ten minutes, murmuring a recited line that seemed to be more for her than him, “I will not let another young man that believes he’s the hero reborn die in that castle.” 

Outside the wooden home, the splashes of a small waterfall and the restless crickets’ songs seemed to fill the room.

Link nodded and thanked her for her time, movements stiff as he made to leave the room. 

A sharp inhale stopped him. 

“Link, on your back- _Where did you get that sword?_ ” 

For the sake of consistency, he raised an eyebrow as he turned to the ashen-faced chief, “You mean my can opener?”


End file.
